Running
by Mari83
Summary: “Three days before the Pulse Max finds a trace of Jondy on the internet…” Another look at the Pulse from Max’s perspective. Random collection of short pieces concentrating on Max’s early life.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**_: I don't own Dark Angel

_**A/N**_: Huge Logan-shaped snow man thanks to _**Shywr1ter**_ for the extra shift beta. Of course all remaining mistakes are mine.

Did you ever wonder why Max's nightgown was dry when Hannah stopped for her even though it should have been dripping wet from having fallen into the lake?

xxx

**Forest west of Manticore, February 2009**

When Max crashes through the lake marking Manticore's outskirts, the ice under her feet suddenly bursting into angry splinters, she doesn't fight or panic. As her initial shock gives way to concentration, she simply lets herself drift under the safe cover that would hide her from the guards… if only she can make it long enough.

Forcing her mind into basic survival mode, she registers how the icy water drains her body warmth, quickly numbing that first wave of dull pain. Just like the colonel had showed them, Max starts counting in the rhythmical, emotionless way of a soldier measuring time, all the while watching the bluish winter sky through her little, cracked window of milky ice. Needing something to hold on to, her eyes fix on the pale, round moon, glowing in calm serenity as if up there her siblings weren't running for their lives.

Finally, after 256 record-breaking seconds, it seems safe to come up, the muffled yells and thudding vibrations of heavy boots long having faded into the gurgling silence of the water. Slowly swimming towards the hole, Max stifles the jolt of horror upon finding that it has already started to close, instead putting all her remaining strength into pushing upwards, into the night.

The light breeze tickling her face after the dark, murky water is reward enough. Only her head sticking out, Max allows herself five deep, well-measured breaths of cuttingly cold, wonderfully clear air while she warily scans her surroundings.

All is clear. No noise, no movement disturbs the unsettling realization that now she is alone, isolated: for the first time in her life has nobody to keep her company. It is a frightening thought that would make her feel hopelessly lonely and abandoned, if only she wasn't so consumed by her urge to get away.

The icy air bites into her wet skin, crushing it brutally, as soon as she carefully hoists herself onto the brittle surface, water running down her legs and dripping from her gown. As Max forces her heavy limbs into an awkward trotting, quickly reaching the relative safety of the trees, she feels how the soaked nightgown stiffens around her into an armor of ice. It's only then, with this harsh reminder of her hostile surroundings, that Max starts to calculate her chances of survival. She won't allow herself to think about not making it – not yet – but the purposeful, single-minded concentration bringing her this far is gone. Alone, and without Zack's guidance, she is robbed of her siblings' help and encouraging smiles that had accompanied her as long as she can remember.

The one thing that keeps her going now, that the initial kick of adrenaline has ebbed, is the thrilling prospect of what is waiting for her on the outside, away from the colonel and his bellowed orders. Out there, somewhere, there would be buildings, a warm place for a brief rest before she would continue her escape. Perhaps she would even find some clothes to replace her own, pants and sweaters of the kind some of the staff wore, warm and soft and different for each person.

Driven by her excitement, Max hurries along, eyes directed ahead and already seeing the beginnings of a better world behind every clearing.

xxxx

If there hadn't been the dark-red stain intruding into her vision she probably would have missed the pale heap of arms and legs in between all the shades of white, unmoving winter wood.

She immediately recognizes the lithe body with its shaven head and bar-coded neck as one of her siblings. For a few seconds though her brain refuses to take in the truth, letting her pretend that this isn't Sammy, her little baby brother, the smallest in their group and the only person to make even Zack smirk.

But there's no denying the truth and realization hits her like a wave of nausea, dizzying her as she leans against a tree, its mossy bark oddly warm under her fingers.

It's their fault, their doing that Sammy is dead.

The escape hadn't been Max's idea but at least it had been her decision to come along, aware of the risks. Sammy hadn't had this luxury. As she sees him lying there, Max remembers the harsh, whispered discussion about taking him along dragging out endlessly. All their arguments had spun around the dilemma of how he wasn't quite up to it – but yet was too small to stay behind and probably wouldn't survive the harassing after their escape. Grimly they'd weighed the pros and cons while he was sitting at their side with his wide, anxious child eyes, ready to follow them into death.

And he did. It is she, the older sister, the one who should have protected him, who is still standing there, alive and sickly guilty for her foolish thrill of triumph only minutes before.

Suddenly the escape is no longer the gloriously twisted fulfillment of all their years of training, but is only yet another way of allowing them to kill more of her siblings.

Ignoring the obvious, Max kneels down to feel for a pulse. Sammy's arm crudely sticks out from under his torso, igniting a rush of bitterness in her towards the soldier who, instead of just immobilizing him, had killed her brother. But his skin is cold and translucent, every sign of life gone from the body that has already become a part of the still, glassy landscape.

It feels like abandoning the most helpless of her siblings, but still, finally, Max turns around to go, knowing, after years of listening to Zack's commands, that he would tell her not to linger and get caught over something that couldn't be changed.

On a sudden impulse though, she hesitates, one hand lingering on the dry tissue of Sammy's gown, not wet at all from the powdery snow. Her other hand fingers the harsh, frozen mess of her own clothes scratching her skin, aware of how it would slow her down and make her even more suspicious to the outside people.

Max knows how wrong it is, but that sickly twisted, alluringly simple thought just sneaks up on her, drilling into her mind with the power of necessity. But she also knows that Sammy would have wanted her to escape even if he didn't make it, that she would have wanted him to do what is needed if the situation was reversed.

She knows that Zack would approve.

Hating herself for caring more about her own survival than his dignity, Max starts to undress her brother with the gentlest touch to put on his gown herself, her treacherously shivering body relaxing immediately into his soft clothing.

Almost deliberately, Max neglects her vigilance, feeling as if she owes it to him to lose herself in this overwhelming sadness she remembers from when they lost Jack and later on Eva. But at least back then she had been among the others, their grief not lessened but at least shared, unlike this empty loneliness that will be a constant in her life from now on.

Finally, she covers his body with her own clothes, then piles up more snow and some loose branches. She hopes it will give him something like peace, untouched by the scientists' greedy hands.

With a last look back at the small, white heap in the underbrush, now looking almost untouched, Max forces herself into running full speed, away from Sammy, away from Manticore.

He would have wanted her to make it, would have wanted her to see the outside with its warm beds and endless food, all the places where there were no men with guns, no doctors with their cold knives and needles.

xxx The End… xxx

… even though I figure this might become a collection of some loose bits from Max's life.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer**_: Don't own Dark Angel.

_**A/N**_: Just another little moment I imagine for Max…. (Still pretty raw and full of errors but wanted to post for Pulse Day)

xxxxxxxx

Three days before the Pulse she finds a trace of Jondy on the internet

It takes an alert eye to discover the girl among the families and old ladies populating the blurry video of some farmer's market set up in a peaceful, palm-lined city plaza. Barefoot and in an oversized t-shirt she whizzes from one stall to another, snatching a banana here and an orange there with movements too fast to see, hands diving into pockets and bags before people even notice her. Then, after making sure that nobody is watching, she somersaults into a tree, safely landing on a branch easily ten feet above her head.

It's exactly the kind of thing Max constantly fears, being caught because she missed one of the omnipresent surveillance cameras. Yet weirdly, even though she isn't the only one who noticed Jondy, the discussion about "super girl" is only half-hearted, agreeing that this is too lame a fake to deserve much attention. Only Max knows the truth, recognizing her sister's angular face and trademark climbing skills.

Anxious for more, Max tries to remember how she found the video under the millions of other little movies showing eccentric pointlessness. She fumbles around with buttons and functions, but it's still all too new for her to be effective. It's her first encounter with the internet, only three weeks after a social service woman tricked her with a warm meal and real shoes. She doesn't know yet what to make of it all, but at least this school place is nicer than the house where she is meant to stay for the rest of time. Imitating her classmates who seem to follow strange rules and rituals, she has been able to slip by so far with the same dull conformity that she learned at Manticore.

It all goes well until she is forced to spend a free lesson in the computer room, alone and without any order or clue what to do. Watching the other kids sitting behind rows of screens, she wonders whether this is a laxer form of Manticore's computer tests, whether she should sit down or wait until she is assigned to a table.

Sensing her insecurity, one of the girls gives her a disinterested glance, with a bubble-gum masked sigh asking if she forgot her password.

Password… Max tenses with the chilling memories of the colonel's favorite game, putting one of them with the nomlies until the rest worked their way through a complicated system of passwords and security questions. Of course there would be passwords out here too, used to discipline the units and determining who belonged to the inside circles…

The girl, with her blonde, curly hair and make-up a few years older than herself, doesn't seem to notice her panic as she impatiently pulls Max down into the chair next to her. "Whatever, use mine."

Max face remains blank while the girl opens some screens for her, unable to make sense of her questions and explanations. Finally, exasperated at Max's lack of reaction, the blonde turns her head to really look at her, taking in the worn, random clothes and incredulously utters: "Which planet are you from? "

Not bothering to answer, Max starts clicking at colored icons to follow link after link, opening window after window. At first the overload of information is overwhelming and trying to calculate all the options and possibilities nearly gives her a headache. Once she figured out the basics though, it's easy, like one of the colonel's data gathering tasks, only that this is no game but the first real challenge for her brain since the escape.

And then, out of the blue, there's Jondy on the screen, captured in the middle of silly, meaningless things. Heart beating madly from acute over-awareness, Max wants nothing more than to stay and search, perhaps even locating her sister, run away from here and find her… but she only has a few more minutes before Lucy's class is over and the bus will take them back to the dingy house. Used to worse than whatever punishment the man will inflict on them, she briefly considers sending Lucy back alone. But then she thinks of the other girl, still shaky from last week's beating, imagines how anticipating horror would flatten her hesitant smile. Eventually, reasoning that more information will accumulate the longer she waits, she follows Lucy who is anxious to get back before the man starts drinking.

All during the weekend she's itching to get back to school, her restlessness triggering the man to howl like a rabid dog as he throws his empty beer cans at them. She doesn't even attempt to sleep Sunday night while she listens to the kitchen clock's ticking, steadily working its way toward Monday. But five minutes after midnight, right after they crept into their staircase shelter, the ticking stops, making way for a strange silence that seems utterly wrong.

And while everybody freaks and panics over dead cell phones and silent TVs, Max resigns over this one, coincidental video, more caring about her lost sister than this world which she hadn't really understood anyway.

xxx

Happy Pulse Day!


End file.
